I call them slow yeses. And they almost killed FlexScreen.

Before FlexScreen existed, I was an independent sales rep selling parts to window manufacturers, and my customers were always complaining about screens getting scratched and dented and the corners breaking. Somewhere between 3% and 5% of the screens made in our industry had to be repaired or replaced before a homeowner was happy. Meanwhile, the basic design hadn’t changed since 1907.

So, I told my wife I was turning the garage into a little workshop for a couple of weeks. Just a hobby.

Two years later, her Yukon XL was still parked in the driveway. There were a lot of times I cleaned everything up and told myself she could pull the truck back in tomorrow. Then I’d think, what if I just did this a little bit differently, and I’d bring everything back out and start over. I ended up with a bubblegum-and-duct-tape prototype. It was ugly and barely functional, but when I showed it to the people I knew in the industry, they got it.

“This is fantastic. If you figure out a way to build it, we’re interested.”

I took them at their word. I got a few partners together, and we opened a manufacturing facility. When the product was finished, I went back to show those same companies what we had built.

“It’s done. Here it is.”

“Yeah, we’re interested, but our customers don’t know what it is. We need to get some pull-through demand from our customers first.”
None of them said no. They just didn’t buy, and that’s what I mean by a slow yes.

As crazy as it sounds, a “no” would have been better, because at least you know where you stand. You can learn from it, or cross that name off the list and spend your energy somewhere it might actually pay off. All a slow yes does is keep you waiting by the phone, and there were a lot of nights in that stretch when we had well over a million dollars spent and zero sales to show for it.

What finally broke it open was a little local window manufacturer that decided to take a chance on us. When you’re asking somebody to bet on a product that challenges technology more than a hundred years old, getting that first company to do anything with you is a huge lift. They did it anyway, and I still count that first sale as one of FlexScreen’s two defining moments.

The slow yes is dangerous because it feels like good news.

Interest costs the other person nothing. Saying “we’re interested” lets them feel supportive and it keeps their options open without risking a dime. Most of the time there’s nothing malicious about it. People hate saying no, especially to somebody who is obviously pouring everything they have into an idea. But when you build your plans on someone else’s interest, you end up carrying all of the risk for both of you.

A “no” costs you a day. A slow yes can cost you the company.

Some of you are sitting on a pile of them right now. Maybe it’s a customer who loves your product but wants to see someone else go first, or a boss who wants to revisit your idea next quarter.

So, the next time someone tells you they’re interested, ask for the no. Tell them that if this isn’t going to happen, you’d rather know now, and mean it. Then put your energy into finding your little local window company, the one customer willing to actually take a chance on you.

Take a hard look at the yeses you’re counting on today. How many of them have actually cost the person saying them anything?

If the answer is none, stop collecting slow yeses and go get a real answer.

(This is part one of a three-part series about the years between building FlexScreen and turning it into a business. I told a version of this story recently on the Clear Impact podcast with Sherri Connor of MITER Brands. Next up: The Email on the Wall.)